A Nest of Plot Bunnies
by Great King of Evil
Summary: Plot bunnies and the ilk that aren't strictly one-shot or developed enough to count as plot bunnies


_**J.K. Rowling once said that the last word of the epilogue to the series was 'scar'. This is one crazy take of what the ending may have been like.**_

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Fatique wracked his body as Harry Potter struggled to keep his grip on the small rock that jutted out of the cliff face, the midday sun beating down on his body, the thick layers of clothing causing him to overheat.

It had been a trap, all of it. He, Hermione, and Ron had been lured into a trap while trying to hunt down the Horcruxes scattered across Britain by the evil Dark Lord Voldemort. He had no idea what had happened to Hermione or Ron. All he knew was that Voldemort had had anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards set up, obviously taking no chances with his opponent, and had duelled Harry to a cliff off to the side. Harry had great amounts of situational awareness – he just didn't realise it was too late until he had actually tripped over the cliff, and it was mere blind luck that he had managed to get a grip on a sharp rock in the cliff wall.

A small shadow overhead gave him slight relief from the sun, but he shivered as he looked up at what cast the shadow. Standing above him was Lord Voldemort, in all his self-appointed glory, resplendent in his black robes.

"Tell me, Harry Potter," Voldemort spoke, after a moment of silence, "How much did Albus Dumbledore tell you about me and my past as Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

Harry refused to speak. There was a good chance Voldemort didn't know about him knowing about the Horcruxes, and if that was the case, he refused to let Voldemort find out.

"Hmm, so you refuse to tell me, don't you?" Voldemort chuckled. It was an eerie sound, coming from the mutated form the Dark Lord had adopted, a sort of snake-human hybrid. His face was one of the most vile things Harry had ever seen, with the bottom part of his head being significantly smaller than the top half, and his bald head, nostril-less face and slit eyes all screaming _snake_. "No matter, I think there is something Albus Dumbledore never knew, and so could not tell you. You see, Harry Potter", and here Voldemort bent his knees, leaning closer to Harry's face, "I am a fan of muggle cinema."

Of the many things Harry was expecting, that was not one of them, and he had to struggle to hold on for dear life as he nearly lost concentration. "W-what?"

"Yes, yes, of course, you have been rendered speechless, haven't you, Harry Potter?" Voldemort hissed. "Me, the great Dark Lord Voldemort, a fan of muggle cinema? But it is true. And I don't speak just of propaganda work like the brilliant _Triumph of the Will._ If you must know, I was compelled by _Citizen Kane_ and _Gone with the _Wind as a young lad, during one of my summers out of Hogwarts."

The crazy Dark Lord paced back and forth, muttering a few words Harry couldn't make out, before he stopped and faced Harry again. "I might even have grown up a film critic, west London born and raised, until Albus Dumbledore came and flipped my life upside down!"

Harry just watched, unable to form the words. Even if he could comprehend what Voldemort had just said, the words would have melted away in his mouth.

"Yes, yes. What you did not know, Harry Potter, was that the real reason I hate Albus Dumbledore is not because of the numerous times he has tried to foil my plots. No, rather, he rejected my love of cinema when I professed to being interested in motion pictures, saying 'Frankly, my dear boy, I don't give a damn.' Our relations just spiralled down after that as he decided he didn't like the Dark Arts I was dabbling in either."

"And you know what I did once I was reborn? I caught up on all the good films of the last decade that I missed out, while I was gone. A decade's worth of films that I had missed, all because of you!"

Voldemort's eyes were gleaming with mania. "But have no worries, Harry Potter. It took me a while, but I finally lured you into a trap, one that I designed for my revenge. Oh yes, I have set-up a grand scenario for your death." A snap of his fingers later, Harry could feel a deep rumble coming from afar. Looking down underneath him, his eyes widened as he saw why: a horde of thestrals was running from the far end of the chasm, towards the area underneath where he was. "I will send you down below, where you will die, trampled underneath the hoofs of thousands of thestrals.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, and with little warning, he stamped down on Harry's hands with his boot.

Harry screamed in pain, his hands letting go of the rock as he fell into the chasm below, where he would then be trampled over by the thestrals. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" was the cry he let out as he sank to his death, unable to think of anything to save him, with no cinema-worthy deus ex machina able to save him.

Voldemort let out a deep bellow, before maniacally laughing once more. "Ahahahaha! At last I have reproduced that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa gets dropped down the side of a cliff by Scar_!_"

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**Yeah, this was a bad plot bunny :O. It could use a lot of editing and tidying up, but I had to get it all out in one burst before my inspiration died off!**


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